HIGH HOPES

Mad Men Recap! The Highs & Lows Of Money & Self-Medicating

By Miz J

PEGGY’S PULLING NO PUNCHES. And neither is my Long Island iced tea…whoo. Need to ease up on the rum next time. Damn.

It’s Friday afternoon at Sterling Cooper, and our two newly-appointed Heads of Accounts need the creative team to stay over the weekend to dream up some new Bacardi campaigns. You know, while the two of them slither around at Roger Sterling’s country club soiree, actually *drinking* Bacardis.

“They hate creative,” Peggy complains, resigning herself to her fate.

The next day, Peggy, Smitty and Kinsey hunker down to try and figure something out. Smitty and Kinsey lock themselves in Kinsey’s office, and soon enough they realize they have *no* ideas. It’s at this point that they don’t call upon Peggy, but Mary Jane. Kinsey’s hipster ass calls up one of his rebel-without-a-cause Princeton buddies, who’s slangin’ dope instead of working a 9 to 5. Jeff sits in on the “creative session” and chides Kinsey for never calling. You know, it’s just a dime bag, not a therapy session, guy. Leave your number and a “free sample,” and I bet he’ll start calling your ass all the time.

Elsewhere, Roger’s grand country club party is going well. That is, if you love crashingly dull work functions where you have to look like you’re having fun even though it’s hot, you’re uncomfortable and you don’t want to talk about work on the weekend. But, hey, open bar! That’ll cure what ails ya.

THE END OF THE ROAD

What Happens In Vegas Stays In Vegas: My Last Leg As Roadie for Peter, Bjorn & John

By Mike S.

IT’S THE DAY AFTER THE BAND PLAYS THE BOWL, AND PETER AND JOHN and some of the girlfriends want to hit resale shops. Resale shops are among my worst nightmares. But the shops are on Melrose and who knows who you’ll run into.

We run into no one, and to make matters worst, we get texted from the hotel that Snoop Dogg‘s hanging at the pool.

I consider treating myself to a shopping trip on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. I need sunglass and think it’d be fun to drop a few hundred on D&G sunglasses. A friend back in Chicago says I’m an idiot (she is subtle that way), that the sunglasses would be out of style by the time I get back to Chicago. I take the advice and purchase sunglasses from a resale shop. Instead of dropping $300, I spend $5 and am confident that these are already out of style. Dumb like a fox, that’s me.

READ MIKE’S FIRST INSTALLMENT AS ROADIE HERE.

The show tonight is in Anaheim, the stadium where the Mighty Ducks play. Our dressing room is not too shabby; it actually has a TV in it but no wireless.

I take my new position as a “walker” very seriously. First, I walk the route myself, checking for potential problems, obstructions and most of all making sure I don’t get lost. Once I am confident of the route, I check with the stage manager on when he wants the band in position and discuss the cue to send the band on stage.

This night, my bro Chris’s with me while I review the details with the stage manager. Chris mentions that he was considering letting people pay to do the job as sort of a B-list rock and roll fantasy. I ask how he’ll be sure they’ll be professionals like I am. The stage manager looks at me and says, “Professional? You’re more like semi-pro.” The Depeche Mode stage manager just calls me a semi-pro! Awesome, I have moved from amateur to semi-pro in just a few shows!

Thursday’s show’s in Santa Barbra, about a 2.5 hour drive. We agree to leave early (rock and roll translation — about 11 a.m.) and stop at a beach along the way.

I take a leisurely path along Pacific Coast Highway, through Malibu and points north. We settle on a beach in Ventura, about 45 minutes south of Santa Barbara. We get the cooler unloaded and the blankets laid out when the phone rings.

It’s Chris: “Where are you guys?” Me: “We just got to the beach.”

Chris: “You need to leave by 3, there’s traffic.” It’s 2:30 now.

There’s a collective groan, but I make the executive decision that we won’t leave until 3:30 and we’ll blame any delay on traffic. A quick dip in the ocean, a few minutes in the sun, and we’re up and moving again.

The show is great, but there’s a hitch. At one point lead singer Peter jumps into the crowd but he can’t get back on stage. There’s no path from the pit. He runs to the left — nothing; he runs to the right — nothing. He has to climb it. With one foot on a hand rail, a microphone in hand, he scales a small wall.

READ MIKE’S SECOND INSTALLMENT AS ROADIE HERE.

After the show, we drive back to West Hollywood and go right to our rooms. Come morning, it’s time for me turn in the rented Porsche. I am sorry to part with it but we’re leaving for Vegas today. All aboard the van for our five hour trip to Vegas.

Traffic is OK. Tthere are spots where we are going 85 m.p.h.; others where we’re crawling. Through the Mojave Desert and Death Valley we roll.

We drive past a sigh that reads “Ghost Town Road.” I hear a Swedish chorus from the back of the bus yell “Ghost Town Road!” Today is a travel day so I again exert authority (since Chris is already in Vegas) and take the exit. We travel a few miles of the interstate to Calico Ghost Town, a replica of an old mining town for tourists. It’s 105 degrees outside.

DEATH WISH FULFILLED

DJ AM Dies And No One Is Surprised

By N. Stag

I HEARD ON THE RADIO YESTERDAY THAT DJ AM DIED. I wasn’t surprised after the commercial break to learn that it was a drug overdose.

When are we going to get it? Every celeb does drugs. You know that book Dear Diary? By Lesley Arfin? No? Well, I didn’t read it either, but I read one issue of her magazine MissBehave, which explicitly cites drug use as casually as it rates mascaras.

Mentioning something that is obviously going on all around us isn’t necessarily advocating it. Anyway, So DJ AM was found in his fancy NY apartment in sweatpants with a bag of crack taped to his chest and a crack pipe somewhere and pills everywhere and probably a bunch of crackhead model girlfriends fleeing the scene. Yeah?

Aren’t we used to stuff like this? I mean, didn’t we all read (or watch)
Less Than Zero and Valley of the Dolls and countless other sociological studies on why the world of celebrity, fortune, beauty and fame just really blows if you value longevity at all?

THE OFFICIAL STORYLINE

Mischa Barton Blames Crackup On “Nightmare” Pain That Followed Teeth Pull

By Elizabeth C.

THE INEVITABLE PRICE OF SEEKING FAME ON TV IS THAT TRADING YOUR PERSONAL LIFE IS PART OF THE BARGAIN.

Just weeks after she was involuntarily held on a psychiatric hold at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, actress/model Misha Barton opens up to Time Out New York to promote her new TV show The Beautiful Life: TBL. Barton portrays a model trying to boost her career in the show, which premieres Sept. 16th on the CW.

The mag’s full interview won’t hit the stands until September 10th, but in an excerpt released yesterday, the beauty tells the mag that pain from having four wisdom teeth pulled is what provoked her hospitalization.

“Here’s what happened,” she says. “I was traveling abroad for contract stuff and I went through a terrible surgery — a wisdom tooth surgery, all four removed. It was a nightmare. I’ve never had surgery before — it all went wrong and I had to have a second surgery and it almost delayed shooting because it was a nightmare to me, because I couldn’t deal with the thought of not getting there on time. So with the travel, and surgery and prep for the show — it was hell.

So how did she end up in a psychiatric hospital? “I was down in the dumps about everything there for a while,”‘ Barton says. “Sometimes you have to hit rock bottom about things and have to get the most stressed-out just to feel better again. I got completely stressed-out and couldn’t handle everything, and now I feel really in control.

Finally, reporter Michael Freidson asks point-blank, “Was it an official nervous breakdown? Drugs?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” says Barton, whom the magazine describes as poised and healthy looking during the interview. “I had a friend who had a quasi-nervous breakdown, but I’m not sure it’s the same thing. I’m not sure I’m capable of a full-on nervous breakdown, but it was pretty bad. It didn’t last that long. It was more about the pain. I have a newfound respect for people who have chronic pain.”

The mag’s excerpts make Misha sound a like smart lass who suffered from the success of The O.C.M and is happy to be home in New York. We’re glad she’s feeling better, though sorry that because she’s in the public eye, she has to explain her meltdowns.

BIG QUESTION: IS KANDI DICKMATIZED?

Meanwhile, Back In Hoity ‘Hood: Real Housewives Atlanta Returns Tonite

By Sexy Chatty Catty

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES ARE BRANCHING OUT ALL OVER, YA’LL!

Last weekend there was a performance of The Real Housewives of Philadelphia at the Actors Center in town. Ascribing personas from the most affluent parts of the city, five actresses, with audience help, improvised the hoity-toity Philly housewives’ experience. (And, no, that is not an oxymoron.)

And who was that I saw while peeking at a monitor over Lawrence O’Donnell’s right shoulder on Hardball one night? Why, NeNe Leakes chatting with Bravo’s Andy Cohen. They’re everywhere!

Last week’s show opens with Lisa Wu in full-on makeup pretending to exercise with husband Ed. A call from her mom brings an invite for her and NeNe to come celebrate Granny’s 92nd birthday in L.A.

Then we see dumb-as-rocks Kim doing nothing with her kids and their Nanny The nanny’s helping with homework and Kim keeps butting in with wrong answers. It’s not cute not to know what a “verb” is Kim.

COMPETING WITH KNIVES

What’s For Dinner? A Top Chef Recap

By Nicki R

ONLY IN WEEK TWO OF TOP CHEF LAS VEGAS, so we still don’t know who’s top-notch, who’s lacking in the kitchen.

The Quickfire Challenge begins with steamy Todd English as the guest judge. The chefs must roll the dice and the number they land is how many ingredients they have to use in their dish. Clever.

MAD MEN & WOMEN WANNABES

It’s a Groovy Mad Mad Men World

By Elizabeth C.

THERE’S A CERTAIN LATFH QUALITY TO THE TAKERS OF THE OFFER TO MAD MEN YOURSELF.

Hey, I’m not criticizing. I’m just sayin’.

I’m up there myself, second row to the right, with the stars dancing around my head. Better than in my eyes I suppose. I just Blingeed up my avatar to stand out from the crowd.

A couple things I’ve deduced from a not-so-quick crawl of the web for Mad Men avatar makers?

On the whole, the show’s fans are white, disproportionately wear glasses, and are proud of their geek quality. Some even seem proud of smoking!

But my best guess is that they all are romantics at heart, yearning for a time they never knew and would turn their backs on if they had to live it.

Just like it does to Peggy and Don, Betty and Roger, that would make them “mad.”

A CLIFFHANGER

A Real Life Momma Mia! The Mystery Of The “Jackson Three’s” Parentage

By Elizabeth C.

AS THE INEVITABLE CONFIRMATION COMES THAT MICHAEL JACKSON DIED OF AN OVERDOSE OF DRUGS, I find myself wishing that such finality was immiment in the question of who really are the parents of his children.

On its face, the answer is obvious. Michael Jackson was, and a supernaturally good one at that, at least according to public pronouncements from friends and family. I have no reason to doubt the truthfulness of those statements other than the odd video that surfaced after his death in which his children are miked and repeat lines that seem rehearsed. “Daddy, thank you for my birthday cake and I love you so much, and, and and, uh, I love my daddy so much. You’re the best daddy in the whole world,” Paris says to the camera.

Sadly, the pop star who was both “father and the mother” to three children is now dead, opening the Pandora’s box of who their biological parents really are.

TRASH SCIENCE?

Gamers Take Aim At CDC’s ‘Flawed’ Study On Gamers’ Health

By Marc Sakol

THE VIDEO GAME WORLD IS NO STRANGER TO “legitimate studies” that look at the effects on gamers, which thanks to the Nintendo Wii is everyone from 5 to 80 year olds.

Now comes the latest, this one from the Centers For Disease Control (CDC), which concludes that female gamers are depressed and in poor health, male gamers are fatter than non-gamers, and that both genders have a higher than normal reliance on the Internet.

Now, I’m going to skip over the whole question, “What does playing video games have to do with diseases?

NO PUSSYFOOTING AROUND HERE

A Purrfect Performance in This Cats’ Duet

By Crabby Staff

THINK WHAT IT WOULD DO FOR ATTENDANCE IF THIS TYPE OF HUMOR SPREAD TO OTHER CHURCHES!

Think “mashup” between Christians and cat lovers! Church membership would soar!

Because, on the church of the web, cats rule. So maybe singing a few odes to felines on Sundays might attract the next generation of worshippers.

Meow.